


Not According to Plan

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hazing, Lapdance, Lingerie, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12643455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Armitage Hux has a plan to make the most of his university career. It starts with becoming a member of his father's fraternity, and it culminates in his graduation with highest honors and invitations to work anywhere he chooses. For better or for worse, though, things don't always go according to plan.





	1. Rush Week

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of this fic was written for [an anonymous prompt](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/166380691343/kylux-and-51-59) from the [101 kinks meme](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/166331953383/101-kinks-send-me-a-number-and-a-ship-and-ill), and the second chapter was inspired by [another anonymous prompt](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/167158430178/would-homecoming-king-hux-be-considered-a-prompt). More may come.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To his surprise, Armitage is not immediately welcomed into his father's fraternity, but must instead go through Rush Week as if he were just anyone. He does his best not to let the ordeal humiliate him, but it's even worse than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual harassment occurs in this chapter. See the end notes for specifics.

“My father was in this fraternity,” he’d sneered not three hours ago, certain that this was the only argument he needed, certain that Brendol’s name meant something here. The commandant would finally, finally do something to help his son.

Except of course that wasn’t how it went at all.

 _My father was in this fraternity_ , he reminded himself, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. Armitage would never hear the end of it if he did not get in. And to get in, he had to make it through rush, like a nobody.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He could do this.

Armitage was directed to the site of his performance by a pair of laughing upperclassmen who took it upon themselves to inspect his outfit. “Oh, this is great, Armie,” one of them said, sliding a hand down Armitage’s back and cupping his rear. “Is it yours?”

“Must be,” said the other, tracing a finger along Armitage’s exposed collarbone. “It’s not from our collection.”

Armitage forced himself to ignore their taunts and unwelcome touches, lifting his chin. “Through there, then?” he said blandly, nodding to the door at the end of the hall.

“Yup,” said the younger-looking one. Thanisson, Armitage thought his name was.

“Time for the show,” said the other one. Mitaka. Armitage would remember both of them. For now, though, he strode forward, gave the doorknob a definitive turn, and flung the door open, marching inside.

The shouts and whistles started as soon as he entered. The entire fraternity was crowded along all four walls, jostling each other in the dim lighting to get a look at him. Armitage stopped, cocked out a hip and placed a graceful hand atop it. Let them look. Let them see everything.

Archie Xavier, the fraternity president, was waiting for him in an armless dining chair at the center of the room. For some reason he was wearing a mask. Armitage locked eyes with him, then swaggered forward. It was easy to swing his hips while wearing high heels, and he had to admit he liked how the movement made the lace tease along the crack of his arse and across his cock.

The outfit was indeed his own; when Armitage set out to do something, he did it right. Shiny red stilettos, sleek black stockings that ended well above the knee, a black lace thong trimmed in red, a matching garter belt and bralette, and a red ribbon choker with a modest bow. He looked good. This event was supposed to shame him; he would not let it.

Reaching Archie’s chair, Armitage sidled up next to it, flung a leg out, and straddled him, lowering himself smoothly into his lap. Gratifyingly, Archie’s head turned to watch Armitage’s leg and then dropped right to his cock. “Good evening, Mr. President,” Armitage purred, wrapping his arms around Archie’s neck. “I hope you’re ready to have a good time.”

Archie drew in a shaky breath, and Armitage almost laughed. Perhaps this little hazing ritual would be more embarrassing for him than Armitage. Archie was very publicly straight, but he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself so far.

Armitage rolled his hips against Archie’s, letting the bralette brush up against Archie’s chest. Archie’s cock was hardening in his khakis, and damn if he wasn’t a fair sight larger than Armitage had reckoned. “Like that, do you, big boy?” he murmured against Archie’s neck, brushing it with his lips but not quite kissing. He was close enough to feel it when Archie swallowed.

“Now, don’t get too excited,” Armitage scolded him teasingly, lifting himself out of Archie’s lap. Archie let out a surprised groan. “You said a lap dance,” Armitage reminded him. “So that’s what you’re getting.”

Carefully negotiating his stilettos, Armitage maneuvered himself around so that his arse was in Archie’s lap instead. Legs spread, straddling Archie’s knees, Armitage ground back against Archie’s thick, completely stiff cock. “Did you know you’d like it this much?” Armitage whispered, reaching back with one hand to play with Archie’s hair. His fingers dug in, curling into thick locks—

Wait.

Armitage froze.

Archie Xavier had short-cropped hair. This hair was not short. This was not Archie Xavier.

Slowly, Armitage slid his hand out of the man’s hair and rose to his feet. “This—this isn’t what you said,” he said shakily, looking around at the crowd, searching for someone to blame. “You said it would be Archie.”

“Sorry, Hux old boy,” Archie said, emerging from the corner with a broad grin on his face. “We found someone we thought you’d like better.”

 _No_. Armitage whirled back towards the man in the chair, very nearly losing his balance. The man jumped to his feet and caught Armitage’s elbow to steady him—and Armitage would know that enormous hand anywhere.

“ _Ben_?” he whispered, his face going slack with horror.

“You can take the mask off now,” said Archie’s voice distantly from over Armitage’s shoulder, and the man did, and sure enough it was Ben Solo standing there, staring at him.

No. No no no no no. Not Ben. Anyone but Ben. He could have handled this—he  _was_ handling it—if it had been anyone but Ben.

Armitage had been watching Ben since the very first day of classes, when the huge, slouchy emo kid sitting in the back row of his history seminar spoke up to correct the professor. Ben’s lazy drawl, his slow smile, his surprisingly sharp wit…Armitage had absorbed it all with the perverse thrill of a man who knows he can never be with the one he wants. He’d convinced himself he was content to watch, to enjoy Ben from afar, because there was no way someone like Ben would ever be interested in someone boring like Armitage.

Now Armitage realized he  _wasn’t_  content to just watch. Apparently somewhere deep down in his psyche he’d convinced himself of something completely different: that he had a chance, tiny but insistent, like butterfly wings in his heart.

But Ben was here—Ben, who’d never expressed any interest whatsoever in frats, was in a frat house during Rush Week,  _why_ was he here, how had they  _known_ —and Ben had seen him doing  _this_ , and Armitage could feel those butterfly wings going cold and still and dead.

Everyone was laughing.

Ben was still holding his elbow.

Armitage was shaking.

Ben let go of his elbow.

“That’s enough, right?” Ben yelled into the noise of the crowd. “You’re done with this now?”

Yes, Armitage thought. Let this be done. Let Ben leave.

Let this never have happened.

“Oh, I suppose,” Archie said, chuckling. “Thanks for your help.”

“You’re  _not welcome_.” Ben swept his arm out toward the chair, and it flew across the room, clattering to its side on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Armitage croaked out. “I’m sorry—”

“Let’s go,” Ben answered, and then he was hoisting Armitage in his arms, one around his shoulder, the other under his knees, this was a fucking  _bridal carry_ —and then he strode out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door of the fraternity house.

There was a chill in the fall air. Ben put Armitage down, tugged off his hoodie and threw it over Armitage’s head. The garment was massive, falling down to Armitage’s thighs. “Um. Thanks—” Armitage tried to say, but Ben was scooping him up again and marching down the street.

Armitage wasn’t sure what was happening. The events of the past few minutes played on repeat in his head. He’d just given Ben Solo a lap dance. He’d ruined everything.

“I don’t know why you want anything to do with those fucks,” Ben said suddenly. “Why you’d—do that—”

Armitage stiffened. “Put me down,” he said. Ben complied immediately, stepping back to give him a curious look. “I’ll thank you not to shame me any further.” Armitage managed, somehow, to keep his voice level, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Ben, so instead he glared at the ground. “I’ll return to my room now. I’ll wash this,” and here he plucked at the hoodie, “and bring it to you in class. I appreciate your assistance.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I’m just. Embarrassed.”

Armitage looked up in surprise. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This whole thing was about embarrassing me. And it worked, so.” He waved a hand in a manner that he hoped was dismissive.

“I didn’t know what was going to happen,” Ben said. “They told me all I had to do was sit in that chair and not do or say anything, and it would help you get into the frat.”

Armitage blinked.

“I’m sorry for—what happened,” Ben said. “For being gross. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

It took Armitage a moment to realize what Ben was talking about. When he did, he felt his face go red. “It’s fine,” he said, a little too forcefully. “Totally fine. No problem. A natural physiological reaction.”

“It’s just, I know you’re not into me like that. And now I’ve seen you—ugh, shit, I’m being creepy again, I’m sorry.”

“Not—” Armitage stared at Ben. This was perhaps the stupidest thing he’d ever heard him say, especially given that the whole frat had figured it out. So Ben had no idea why Archie and the others had asked him into the scene.

That was good, wasn’t it?

“I’m gonna say something dumb if I keep talking,” Ben huffed, hugging his elbows. “I’d better just go.”

Something prickled at the back of Armitage’s mind. “Like what?” he asked.

“What?”

“What sort of ‘dumb’ thing might you say?”

“Armitage,” Ben muttered, ducking his head.

“Is it—is it about me?”

Ben groaned. “I’m really sorry, okay? Please don’t make me say it, I know you’re not interested—”

Armitage surged forward to shut Ben up, to put his mouth to better use.

The kiss was everything Armitage had imagined and more. Ben’s mouth was soft and big, and his tongue was slow, teasing, and he used his teeth a little too, just enough. Armitage let out a half-moan, half-sigh and wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck.

When they finally parted for gasping breaths, Ben shook his head, something like awe in his face. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said. “In there—you were. So hot. I mean, you’re always hot, but—”

Armitage grinned and leaned back in, heart soaring. And there they stood on the sidewalk in the middle of fraternity row, Armitage in stilettos and stockings and Ben’s giant hoodie, Ben in khakis and a T-shirt, both of them shivering in the fall air, locked in an embrace that was surely not the desired outcome of that cruel hazing ritual. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Armitage is forced to wear lingerie and perform a lap dance in order to join a fraternity. Two members of the fraternity touch him without his consent on his back, rear end, and collarbone.


	2. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage is more than ready to put the humiliation from his hazing behind him, but things don't really work like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on Tumblr [here](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/167158430178/would-homecoming-king-hux-be-considered-a-prompt).

Armitage woke up the morning after Archie’s prank with a sick feeling in his stomach.

He’d lost control. He’d revealed too much. Everyone knew his weakness.

Rush Week was supposed to have been the  _easy_ part. Armitage should have been accepted into his father’s frat with no fuss. It was barely an afterthought in the grand design for Armitage’s university career, and yet it had nearly ruined him. Or perhaps it  _had_ ruined him—he wouldn’t know if he was in or not until the week was over.

He was supposed to be working on becoming Homecoming King now, not fretting about something that should have been a given.

Armitage threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed, resting his forearms on his knees and his head in his hands. He’d been utterly, thoroughly shamed, and then…

Heat blazed in his cheeks as he thought back to the next part, the part where Ben Solo had scooped him up as if he were a damsel in distress and carried him away. The part where Ben had seemed to think Armitage wasn’t interested in him. The part where Armitage had, instead of doing the smart thing and letting Ben’s misconception stand,  _kissed him_.

It had been good. Really good. It—well, there was no point dwelling on it, because it could never happen again.

They’d kissed, and Ben had walked Armitage back to his dorm, and they’d kissed again, and Ben had left, and Armitage had gone to bed wrapped up in Ben’s enormous hoodie. He was still wearing it, he realized, and under it he was still wearing red lace.

Armitage closed his eyes.

Ben had said Armitage was “hot.” That was really all he’d said.

That was probably all Ben liked about him.

If only the reverse were true. Armitage scowled. If all he wanted out of Ben was sex, they could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Unfortunately, Armitage wanted a lot more from Ben than sex.

Groaning, Armitage fell back across his narrow bed and flung an arm over his eyes. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by something so ridiculous as  _unrequited love_. He had a plan. He had to see it to fruition.

He could certainly have sex with Ben. But that’s all it would be. It would be good in the short run, but in the long run it would be a stumbling block. It would divert him from his goals. He’d waste valuable time and energy wishing for more.

That settled it. It would be best if he never had anything to do with Ben again.

~

Armitage’s resolve lasted through his shower, his linear algebra homework, lunch at the student center, that afternoon’s American Society of Mechanical Engineers meeting, and his walk down to the communal laundry room with a basket full of clothes (Ben’s hoodie mixed in out of sight). But as soon as he swiped his student ID and bumped the door open with his hip, it all went out the window.

“Armitage!” Ben said, and it was a miracle that Armitage didn’t drop the basket.

Ben was sitting on top of a washing machine, long legs dangling, a Nintendo DS forgotten in his hands. A broad smile stretched across his face, dimpling his cheeks in a way that made Armitage feel as though the atoms making up his insides had rearranged themselves into goo.

“H–hello, Ben,” Armitage managed to say.

Ben jumped down off the washer, tossed his DS to the side, and loped forward in three comfortable yet huge strides. “Laundry day, huh?” he said. The amber cast of his brown eyes was especially prominent in the light of the setting sun as it slanted in through the half-open blinds. “Me too.”

“Ah. Yes,” Armitage said.

Ben grabbed the basket out of Armitage’s hands. “Come use the washer next to mine,” he said. He made it a half-step away before he stopped and turned back around. “I mean. If you want to.”

Now was the time to be cruel. Now was the time to tell him  _No, Ben, I don’t want to use the washer next to yours. I don’t ever want to see you again at all_.

“Okay,” Armitage said.

Ben beamed at him, and what had been goo a moment ago was suddenly a million hummingbirds, wings beating so hard Armitage thought they would lift him off the grubby tile floor. His hands tangled together in front of him as Ben spun back around and tromped forward to deposit the basket atop the empty washer next to the one he’d been sitting on.

Armitage forced himself to follow, joining Ben at the washer and immediately opening it. He was here to do his laundry, after all; he would do his laundry. Armitage grabbed an armful of clothes from his basket, bent at the waist to shove the pile inside, straightened and reached out for more—but then Ben said, “Hey, wait,” and his hand made it into the basket first. “Is this my hoodie?”

“Er. Yes,” Armitage said. “I was going to wash it and return it to you—”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ben said quickly, tugging the hoodie free. “Wash it, I mean. I’ll just take it now.” Before Armitage could respond, Ben pulled the hoodie on over his head.

The skin of Armitage’s face, neck, and arms tingled with electric fire. He’d  _slept_ in that. It was all rumpled from his bed. It had smelled like Ben last night, but now it probably smelled like Armitage. And Ben was wearing it.

It was almost overwhelmingly intimate. Especially when Ben flipped the hood up and nuzzled his beautiful, distinctive nose into the fabric.

Armitage forced himself to look away, attempted to focus on putting the rest of his laundry into the washer.

“So,” Ben said after a moment, his voice softer than before. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Armitage said automatically, closing the washer with a definitive slam. He pulled out the dispenser drawer and measured out detergent and fabric softener without looking up.

“Good! Good,” Ben said. “I mean. Yesterday was. Um.”

Not looking at Ben was helping Armitage settle a little. His heart was now beating out slow, dull thuds in his chest rather than a sharp staccato. He decided to try for a wry joke: “Well, it wasn’t the best, was it?”

Ben paused, then said, “Oh.”

“But thank you,” Armitage added. He slid the drawer back in and began loading up the machine with quarters.

“You’re welcome,” Ben said, but he sounded sullen.

Armitage finished feeding quarters into the machine and turned it on. He risked a glance at Ben just as Ben turned and shoved himself back up onto his own washing machine. He didn’t jump; he didn’t use his legs at all, he just levered himself up with his arms. This feat caused Ben’s biceps to stand out rather spectacularly beneath the hoodie, and Armitage quickly looked away again.

This was a mistake. He should have turned and left the moment he saw Ben. Now here he was, stuck with him for the next two hours while his laundry washed and then dried. What if something else happened? What if Ben tried something? What if  _Armitage_ tried something?

He glanced at Ben again to find him engrossed in his DS, dark curls falling around his face, eyes hidden. Armitage drew a long breath and let it out as quietly as he could. Then he hopped up onto his own washer and pulled out his phone.

Maybe it would be fine. Maybe they would just do their own thing until the laundry was done, then go their separate ways, and Armitage wouldn’t have to think about how much he wanted to—

“What was bad about it?” Ben asked abruptly. “What did I do wrong?”

Armitage looked up, wondering if he’d missed something. Surely he wasn’t still talking about yesterday. That hadn’t been his fault. “What?”

“Like.” Ben’s eyes were intent and almost teary, and when he sucked his lower lip into his mouth to wet it with his tongue, Armitage was mesmerized.  _Shit_. “Was it gross?” Ben said, and it was nearly a plea. “I’ve only ever—” His eyes cut away. “I’ve only ever kissed one other person, but I can get better if I practice, I—”

“ _Ben_ ,” Armitage breathed, because he hadn’t been talking about the hazing at all. Armitage’s chest felt tight.

It was another perfect opportunity, he could reject him right now—

Armitage practically dove over the coin drop of Ben’s machine, one hand coming up to fist in the front of Ben’s hoodie and the other going to the back of his neck as he yanked him into a kiss.

Ben let out a surprised noise that almost sounded like a sob. Armitage cursed himself and fought to explain between kisses and gasps for breath. “It was—fucking—fantastic, Ben,” he panted, and Ben groaned and Armitage felt it all the way down to his cock. “Fuck—I thought—you meant—the—”

“Shit,” Ben huffed into his mouth, “I’m sorry—I wasn’t even—thinking—”

“Shut up,” Armitage demanded, and then he climbed the rest of the way over the coin drop and into Ben’s lap. Ben’s hands settled at his waist, huge and warm, and they felt so  _good_. Armitage let go of Ben’s hoodie and pressed closer, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, pulling them together as flush as possible.

What was he  _doing_ —this was what he’d promised himself he  _wouldn’t_ do—Ben didn’t care about him that way, he just—like everyone else—

Armitage was suddenly shaking. His eyes burned, and when he sucked in a breath it shuddered wetly. Ben broke the kiss and drew his head back to look at him. Then Ben flung his arms tightly around Armitage and pulled his head to his shoulder, stroking his hair over and over. “No, Armitage, I’m sorry, you don’t have to,” he whispered. “You don’t owe me anything, Armitage, I’m sorry.”

At these words Armitage could no longer hold back his tears, and they poured traitorous and hot down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was crying. Weak. Foolish.

“It was supposed to be easy,” he said stupidly. “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be easy.” His voice was quavery and broken and he hated himself.

“It’s okay,” Ben murmured into his ear, still petting Armitage’s hair. “It’s over now. You don’t have to do anything.”

Ben was wrong, of course. But Ben was also holding him, and not asking him for anything. Armitage trembled, and buried his face in Ben’s neck, and decided it was all right, just this once, to let himself cry.


End file.
